


Disappearing Act

by Firenza



Series: Septic Egos Oneshots [7]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Arguing, Blood, Goodbyes, Guilt, Journal, ambiguous ending, happy birthday anti, slight angst, slight gore, would it really be one of my stories if there wasn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 01:52:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16254251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firenza/pseuds/Firenza
Summary: I’m keeping this journal so that if anything happens to me, you all will know what I was doing. I told you not to bother me, and I trust that you’ll listen. This is to protect you all. I don’t care if I destroy myself in the process. If I do get hurt, I just hope nothing happens to this.If something does happen and I’m killed, or worse, captured. I want you to know this. I’ve written individual notes for each one of you in the back of this. Read them. Understand them. Live by them. Just please, read what I’ve written, and pray he doesn’t get to this first. Basically if you’re reading this, then this is my goodbye.





	Disappearing Act

_It’s finally the day we’ve been dreading for months now. October Tenth._ His _birthday. The day he begins to grow stronger with each passing moment. I set an alarm to wake me a half-hour ago and now I’m sitting in the basement with most of our electronic devices around me. That’s always where he makes his first attack, and I want to catch him in the act. If that means I don’t sleep for a few days, so be it. Coffee and energy spells will have to do._

_I’m keeping this journal so that if anything happens to me, you all will know what I was doing. I told you not to bother me, and I trust that you’ll listen. This is to protect you all. I don’t care if I destroy myself in the process. If I do get hurt, I just hope nothing happens to this._

_If something does happen and I’m killed, or worse, captured. I want you to know this. I’ve written individual notes for each one of you in the back of this. Read them. Understand them. Live by them. Just please, read what I’ve written, and pray he doesn’t get to this first. Basically if you’re reading this, then this is my goodbye._

 

Patience was one of Marvin’s worst vices. He always had to be working on this spell or preparing that prop for his show. The hours would pass slowly, but he knew this was something he had to do. Not for himself, but for everyone else.

Nothing happens until around 4:30 when Chase’s phone lights up. His first thought was that it was starting, but it was only an Instagram notification. He then shut all of the phones down to make sure that nothing that that happened again.

A few hours later, he could hear footsteps upstairs. It must have been Jackie returning from his patrol. It was a strangely comforting thought that he would most likely collapse on the couch from exhaustion. Normally he didn’t come back that late. Hopefully he was okay.

Around eight-o’clock, it began. Either that or he was going mad going mad. The lights flickered a moment ago, which wouldn’t be as worrisome if it wasn’t accompanied by that damn laugh. He could hear that laugh when he was asleep.

At exactly ten, the power surges. All of the electronics burst into sparks leaving him in pitch darkness. It must have happened all over the house as well. He could hear shrieks when they exploded. He ended up having to use spells to light up the room. It was a miracle they didn’t drain him too much.

That was the last thing for a few hours. Nothing was happening, and he was beginning to wonder if he was missing something. It wasn’t until he could hear shouts coming from upstairs that he considered going back up. _No,_ he decided, _everything always starts down here._ He needed to stay put. But wait, it _started_ down here. How could he be so stupid? It wasn’t starting, it had already started. Panicking, he grabs the journal and his pencil and heads to the stairs.

Marvin stops in his tracks as a giggle rings through his ears. The journal falls, landing with a soft _thud_ on the carpeted floor and disappearing into the darkness. He spins around, hands lighting up with a neon, green flame. It’s pointless to call out. He knows who’s there. He knows that he won’t answer.

Every hair on his body pricks up as a cold breeze blows by, snuffing out his flames and the light spells he’d placed around the room. His eyes dart around as he relights the flames in his hands. Nothing. The room was completely free of anything unusual. That was, until the press of cold metal to the back of his neck causes him to tense.

“Piti̡fu͘l͜. ̶L̨o̧ok a͢t yo͜u d͏own͜ ̧h͜e͝re ̕aļl alon͘e͢,” The distorted voice echoes throughout the room, bouncing off the walls and back into his scull.

“Alone?” He bites back even though he knows it’s a bad idea, “I’m not alone.”

“Rea̴l͜ly̶? W͠h̸o ͠e͘l̴s͝e͠ ͠is ̵dow̧n͠ here? Y̡our ̴so-ca͞ll̢ed fr҉ien͢ds?” The blade of the knife digs deeper into the back of his neck. It breaks the skin and a warm trickle of blood spills out.

Marvin tries to take a step away and face him face-to-face, but finds that he is unable to move his legs, “They _are_ my friends. That’s more than you have.” Bad choice of words, he realizes as the blade comes tearing through his right shoulder. An unwanted cry of pain breaks through his lips as a boot finds the back of his knee and sends him crashing to the ground. He feels the journal next to his hand and quickly brushes it underneath a couch. If he disappeared, Jackie would tear the house to pieces to find any sort of clues. They would find it. They had to find that.

The glitch crouches in front of him, finally in his field of view, his infamous slit throat glistening with blood. He cups his ears, “Do͠ ͞y̨ou he̛a̵r th͠at̷?̴” Marvin strains to hear whatever it is that he’s hearing, but realizes after a moment that it’s silent. “Sil͘ence͠.͞ ͟Ev̸en afţer t̡ha͞t̶ ͞sc̷re̵a͞m,̕ ͏no ͝on͘e͠'s c͏o͜min͝g ̷to ̴sav̨e you.”

“Good,” Marvin grits his teeth and clutches his shoulder, repairing the torn muscle.

He almost looks surprised at his response, “No̷ ̨o̷ne͜ is com͢i͢n̡g ͘to save y͝ou͜.̕  ͘They.͞ Don͞'͢ţ. Car̨e̵,” He punctuates each word with a light stab to his other shoulder, not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to hurt.

He pulls his bloodied hand away from the wound, “At least they’ll be out of danger.”

Anti bares his teeth, “Yo̸u̷'͢l͏l͡ d͠i̶e̡.͘ A͢l͏one̢! ̸You ̢wan͘t t͜o pu͡t͠ the͘m ̷t̡h͠r҉oųgh ͜t͡h̵at̨?”

Marvin shrugs, feeling the strain of new muscle, “But they’ll keep living, and they’ll find a way to stop you eventually. Mark my words, you won’t last much longer.”

Anti grits his teeth and plunges his knife into Marvin’s stomach, leaning down so close he could feel his hot breath on his nose, “You wil͡l̛ ne͠ver͜ win! I̧ ͜am ̴in ̷c͠ontr͝ol!”

The magician lets out a choked sound, “It- it sounds like you’re telling yourself that,” He coughs, a spray of blood landing on Anti’s cheek, “You’re no stronger than the rest of us.”

“I'҉m s͏tron͜g ͢e͡n͡ough͝ ̧to̸ ͟do̧ ͜w͜hat I h̛ave͜ ͟t͘o ̨d̡o t҉o̸ w͢in͝,” Anti growls. He twists the knife. Marvin groans and squeezes his eyes shut, his head falling back. The knife is yanked out and he doubles over. Tears prick in the corner of his eyes. This was it. This was how he died. Alone in the basement at the hands of the demon he fought so hard to vanquish. His only hope now was that the others found his journal. It contained all of his research about Anti and even multiple ways to stop him, but he’d never gotten the chance to try any of them. Maybe the others would.

He tilts Marvin’s head up to meet his eyes. “L҉et's͟ s̵ee ̸h̨o̵w ͢yo̸ur ̶fr̷ie̛nds͟ ͟r͡eac͠t ̕to y̧oųr͞ fi͏ņal ͝p͏erfor̵m̸anc͏e͟,” He slides the blade over his throat, and hisses in his ear, “a̧ ̡d͠i̡s҉appe͢a̕r̨ing̴ a͞ct̵.”


End file.
